


Something Like That

by lady_katniss



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Katniss POV, Post-Mockingjay, Pregnant Katniss Everdeen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_katniss/pseuds/lady_katniss
Summary: There was no warning label that came with pregnancy. Even the simplest of tasks are near impossible with a belly this big and Katniss has had enough. However, her blond husband knows just the trick that will bring her out of her discomfort.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	Something Like That

I shuffle through the mudroom and down the back steps into the backyard. The empty wicker basket leans against my left hip as I waddle through the grass to the clothes line. A swift kick in my side causes me to startle and draw a sharp breath. 

“Easy does it on the ribs, guys. I didn’t mean to squish you with the basket, but you didn’t need to kick me,” I heartily scold. Twins. 

Of course, it’s twins. Why wouldn’t it be twins? The thoughts that raced through my head when the district healer told me about the twins were none too kind. But now, it’s different and I didn’t know I could love something so much. Ten years post-war has brought new life to District 12 and new life within me. Literally.

I rub my swollen belly with a slight smile. The one on the right will reflect Peeta’s personality, while the one on the left will definitely reflect my own. The feisty one has been excruciatingly active. Kicking me, moving around, and twirling their hands in a circular motion to get me to wake up from a deep sleep. The calm one kicks only when kicked by their current roommate. Their movements are gentle, soft, so different from their sibling. Whether they’re girls or boys, or even one of each, we are so ready to meet them. 

After placing the basket on the step ladder next to me, my arms reach up to remove the pins off the line. Shirts, trousers, undergarments, socks, aprons, dresses, and maternity clothes all glide on the wings of the wind as I pick them off one-by-one. 

And then, I drop a sock.

“Damn it,” I mutter. 

Another kick to the side.

I roll my eyes as I push on the spot of my abdomen where my child nudged me. “Fine! Darn it,” I correct.

My gaze turns to the sock for a long while. How on earth am I going to pick that up? 

Any effort to pick up said sock by bending over, I know, is hopeless. Nearly nine months pregnant, my physical actions are rather limited. 

I reach for the small step ladder for balance and squat down. My fingers stretch as far as they can towards the stupid sock, but I come up empty. I attempt several more strategies, but none seem to reach the end goal. To. Pick. Up. That. Stupid. Sock. 

My arms cross and rest on my stomach as I huff in frustration. I just want to get the laundry done so I can take a nap! There was no warning about the daily struggles of pregnancy. I suppose no woman warns another of these said struggles because that would be undermining the joy that children bring. Rest assured, this is the last time I’m getting pregnant. 

“Ya know, you can always ask for help when you need it.” 

I redact my previous statement. Peeta leans against the door frame that leads to the porch. He has a sweet smile on his face while snacking on an apple. His white shirt clings to his muscles, and his dark trousers are tight in all the right places. He’s handsome, and he knows it. I would take him here and now if it weren’t for looking like a beached whale. Damn you, hormones. 

I scowl at him. “I don’t need help.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Kinda looks like you do.” 

My scowl deepens. “Instead of standing there, why don’t you come down here and help me pick up your stupid sock!” 

He laughs at my indecisiveness and tosses the apple core into the yard for the critters to enjoy. He saunters over to me, bends to pick up the sock with envious ease, and hands it to me with a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I teased you. Your stubbornness makes it quite easy,” he says.

I can’t blame him. I do the same thing sometimes when he gets frustrated with a new recipe he’s trying for the bakery. 

“It’s fine.” 

He pulls me in and plants a loving kiss on my lips. His lips are tender on mine while he gently caresses my stomach; suddenly, I feel both of them move under their father’s touch.

I pull away from Peeta with a hiss, and he grips my stomach a little harder. “Woah! That was quite a bit of movement,” he says, his eyes full of wonder. 

“Yeah, they’ve been active all morning. More so than normal,” I reply. 

Something flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head and decides against whatever captured his thoughts.

“Why don’t you come inside for lunch? I’ve made you something special from the bakery.” 

My interest peaks. “Ooh, like a surprise?” 

He smiles brightly and kisses my cheek. “Something like that.”


End file.
